Kassandra

by Bridget Khursheed

The words that force their way like fledglings
from my mouth they will fly
into a thicket of dust and green
shadow possibilities of growth
the smallest tree aphids and spiders spore breath
all the fertilities without any solution

there is no end to its protection and its misinterpretations
flight upwards is impossible
these little chicks fly home to a warm heart nest
in the smallest tree its rough bark familiar to their feathered heads

But they keep on flying out I cannot prevent any more
than future sight to know they will never reach
never sing to another.